ange
creature. Its head was a brilliant yellow. It had two large goggle eyes
which rolled like itinerant marbles when it spoke. The low slung abdomen
was a burnt brown. It was bad enough, Cruthers thought, that these ants
were six feet tall, but it was nightmarish to see them in three colors.

"Mr. Cruthers," the ant continued, "haven't you been instructed by the
National Academy of Sciences that the Martian V.F.W. is to participate
in this parade?"

"The Martian--!!" Mr. Cruthers' mouth was open again. Then he realized
that when the ant spoke its mouth didn't move. He picked up his
clipboard and papers from the street. His voice was hostile now. "What
the hell is this, some kind of a gag! What are you trying to do, scare a
man half to death!"

"Oh, we're not joking, Mr. Cruthers. The National Academy--"

"They didn't say anything to me about a bunch of clowns dressed up like
ants!" Mr. Cruthers' indignation became intensified. He was loathe to
admit that he'd been taken in by such obviously animated costumes. "Now
look here, I'm a very busy man."

"The arrangements _have_ been made, Mr. Cruthers. If my group is refused
a place in this parade we shall file suit immediately. As manager you'll
be named co-defendant." The ant was gentle but firm.

The thought of being sued softened Mr. Cruthers' attitude. "Well, I'm
very sorry, pal, but every contingent in this parade is listed on my
clipboard and you're not. I know this list by heart. What did you say
the name of your group was?"

"The Martian V.F.W."

Mr. Cruthers was amused. "Those sure are the craziest outfits I've ever
seen," he chuckled. "Where'd you get them? Walt Disney make them for
you?" He followed his own little joke with a long throaty laugh.

The ant was impatient. "About the parade, Mr. Cruthers, there isn't much
time."

"Oh, yes, the parade. Well, let me see," he thumbed through the
clipboard, "I guess there's always room for a few laughs. How many in
your group?"

"One hundred and fifty. And we also have a float with us. Not a very
large one. It measures twenty by twenty."

"Tell you what. You move your group to the corner of Thompson Street and
Third Street. Get behind the Tiffany float and follow them, okay?"

The ant paused a moment to record the instructions in his mind. Then he
turned to leave.

"Oh, wait a minute," Mr. Cruthers cried before the ant could rejoin his
group. "Just who did you speak to at the National Academy of Science